


Wait a Minute, Mr. Postman

by AnkhMorporkBoneZone



Category: Discworld - Terry Pratchett
Genre: Begging, Cunnilingus, F/M, Hair Pulling, I know we've all agreed that Moist gets pegged so, Lowkey praise kink, Moist is a loud and very kinky lover, Moist is bi/pan now and forever amen, Pegging, Porn with Feelings, Spanking, and Adora is very quiet but still kinky, and they both just have a good time, and want the other to also have a good time, begging and pegging you know the cornerstone of moist/adora fic, questionable use of Ankh-Morpork Post Office grounds, should add there's also, some wholesome first-time kink use with communication, there's some soft dom vibes but that's also just how Adora Is as a Person so, we stan communication in this house
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-13
Updated: 2021-01-13
Packaged: 2021-03-17 04:34:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28718925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnkhMorporkBoneZone/pseuds/AnkhMorporkBoneZone
Summary: Moist von Lipwig is not a man who's ever been in a relationship. Albert Spangler, sure. John Slipkins, maybe a fling or two. A half dozen different aliases had their fun in their turns, but Moist himself is finding his current relationship with one Adora Belle Dearheart to be the most thrilling, exciting, and intoxicating thing to ever happen to him (or any other version of him).And, maybe it's a bit much to assume, but Adora seems to be having just as much fun as he is. Even if they're both still figuring out a little thing or two about communicating their... desires.
Relationships: Adora Belle Dearheart/Moist von Lipwig
Comments: 2
Kudos: 19





	Wait a Minute, Mr. Postman

**Author's Note:**

> "Wait a Minute, Mr. Postman"  
> Or,  
> "Adora Belle F*cked Me and All I Got Was This Whole Post Office"  
> "The Postmaster General of Ankh-Morpork's General Guide for Getting Pegged"  
> "Gettin' Moist"  
> "Adoremoist Bellips Fuckfest"  
> "And Vetinari Thought He'd Be The First to Fuck Moist von Lipwig Over"
> 
> While editing this I hit 6969 words and refused to go over that amount, so uhhhh.... NICE.
> 
> This is my first time posting E-rated fic, and I would apologize to Sir Terry Pratchett's Ghost, but let's be honest, he knew what he was doing when he wrote these two.

The post office was quiet, and Moist von Lipwig was thankful that, at the very least, he’d finally managed to get Stanley out of the stamp room. Hard work was always appreciated, of course, but too much of the stuff couldn’t be healthy. It was Saturday night, as well, and so most of the other employees of the venerable Ankh-Morpork establishment had departed over an hour ago, eager as they were to begin their weekend.

Moist huffed a sigh as he turned away from the doors and made his way to the stairs. In the low light, his gold suit was less the sun and more a star – still molten and dazzling, but a sleepier sort of dazzling.

A knock at the door made him groan aloud even as he dutifully turned on his heel and walked back to where he’d begun.

“Stanley, I asked you three times to make sure you hadn’t forgotten anything.” Moist muttered, as he flipped through his keys.

He found the correct one and put it in the lock. He spoke even as he opened the door, his voice somewhat ragged:

“Yes, Stanley, what—”

Moist cut himself off as the smell of cigarette smoke hit his nose, weaving in through his nostrils and lighting up his brain like a forest catching fire.

Adora Belle Dearheart smirked at him, tapping the ash off her cigarette before she stepped through the door.

“And here I thought your nicknames couldn’t get better.” Her voice was flat and humorless, which, of course, was a sure sign that she was teasing him.

Moist smiled, closing the door and locking it. “I thought you _liked_ your nickname, Spike.”

“Did I say that I didn’t?”

He turned back to look at her, his smile growing. She wore her usual dark wardrobe. Today it was a long-sleeved, floor-length dress with a form-fitting bodice that managed to excite him despite the way it covered every inch. Even as he looked at her, she blew out a plume of smoke that obscured the air around her. In the dim lamplight, she stood out against the shadows behind her only by virtue of the glowing ember on the end of her cigarette, and the fact that she was wearing a darker shade of black than the shadows.

“It’s been a long day, then?” She said, and though it was phrased like a question, it was spoken like a statement.

Moist shrugged and moved over to her. “What makes you say that?”

She took his arm as they walked up the stairs. And what a pair they were, being a woman clad in night-dark shadows and a man clad in gold starlight.

“You’ve generally got enough silver-tongue leftover to waste on me.”

He laughed. “ _Waste_? Why, Spike, no gilded words have ever been wasted on you.”

Adora rolled her eyes, but a small smile tugged at her lips.

“Aha,” she said, “there he is. Slick Mr. Sunshine, back at it again.”

As they topped the stairs, Moist guided them toward the Postmaster General’s office.

“Well,” he said, smiling one of his patented smiles, “you did ask for my leftover silver tongue. Unless you can think of a better use for it.”

Adora took a long draw of her cigarette and breathed out the smoke before leaning in to whisper to him:

“And what if I said I there _was_ a better use for it?”

Moist nearly dropped his keys as a shiver ran through him. As it was, goosebumps sprouted across his arms at the feel of Adora’s breath on his ear. He smiled and managed to finish unlocking his office door before answering.

“Well, in that case, I think I can… erm… think of something.”

He didn’t have time to kick himself for the abhorrently clunky statement, because Adora had grabbed him by the front of his gold suit and half-dragged him through the door, kissing him with the same kind of vendetta with which she smoked. She was rough and passionate about it, leaving him with a taste like an ashtray in his mouth.

Moist’s one hand wrapped around Adora as the other blindly tossed his keys to what he _hoped_ was his chair. They moved into the room until Adora had backed into the desk and stopped, leaning against it. She broke away from the kiss, taking a final drag before depositing her cigarette into the ashtray that had become a necessary addition to Moist’s office décor. It was gilded, with a little motif of his winged postmaster’s hat going round the outside, and Adora _despised_ it.

“The post office _is_ empty, right?” she asked, barely out of breath.

Moist, who felt entirely more out of breath, nodded. “Sent the last home just before you arrived.”

She reached up and removed his postmaster’s hat, setting it aside with care. Despite how much she made fun of the gold suit, she took certain precautions not to ruin it. Moist supposed she knew how important the image of it was.

“Good,” she said, smiling, “wouldn’t want any noise complaints.”

He scoffed a laugh, turning slightly red.

The, erm… _noise complaints_ , of course, would not have been on account of Adora Belle. _She_ was an incredibly, um… Well, she was discreet. Whereas, Moist was… well, he wasn’t.

“Unless it gets much more out of hand than usual,” he joked, “There is still the stable round the back of the building, and there’s always someone there.”

Adora’s eyes flashed and her hands traced down the front of Moist’s suit. “Well, then, let’s see…” she murmured, slowly unbuttoning his jacket, “How would you suggest we… get out of hand?”

Moist put his hands on the edge of the desk, on either side of Adora, and leaned in to kiss her gently even as her fingertips made deft work of loosening his tie.

“I may have a few ideas.” He whispered.

He stripped off his suit jacket, then his waistcoat and tie followed, each article getting tossed in turn to the chair which sat in the corner. Adora’s helping hands undid buttons of his collared shirt and left it hanging open as her hands slid across his chest. Moist grabbed her for another hungry kiss, his hands skirting across the tight bodice of her dress and fumbling for the lacing.

She grabbed his belt and, as soon as Moist felt her strong tug, the heat that had been building in him jumped and he gasped a little.

“ _Spike_ …”

He meant to say more, but he found his brain oddly lacking in blood as it rushed to be elsewhere.

Adora kissed his jaw, his neck, his chest, and kept working at his belt.

Somewhere in Moist’s brain, he realized he was standing in his office, half-naked along with half-erect, and Adora was still fully clothed and fully in control of herself.

He pulled back from her, guiding her lips up to meet his to interrupt her focus. She still tasted of cigarettes, and as her tongue slid into his mouth, Moist moaned a little. Say what you will about the taste, but there’s no way kissing an ashtray would feel like this.

As the kiss broke, Moist met Adora’s eyes with a smile.

“You mentioned my tongue would have a better use,” he said, “and I believe I’ve just figured it out.”

Before Adora could ask what his idea was, with no doubt a degree or two of snark, Moist was dropping to his knees, pushing up her skirts to her waist and running his hands up her legs. He grinned as she let out a gasp soft enough that he may have missed it if he weren’t paying attention, and he kissed his way along the skin of her thigh, lavishing with his tongue as his fingertips teased at her through her underthings.

“ _Moist_ …” Adora breathed, as she grabbed ahold of his hair with one hand. Her other hand was still busy with holding her skirts up and out of the way.

He held himself back from joking that _“yes, that would appear to be the state of things down here_ ”, if only because it, firstly, was sure to earn him a quick smack upside the head and, secondly, brought more attention to his unfortunate name than he really wanted.

So, in lieu of anything else, he merely kissed at her thigh again and pulled down her undergarments, leaning back as she obligingly stepped out of the garment. She took the opportunity to slip out of her incredibly deadly footwear, as well, which was a relief. As much as he found the sight of those sharp, 4-inch heels thrilling, the last thing he needed was any, erm… missteps to happen in a moment of passion. Especially when he was kneeling on the ground, leaving certain important bits very much at kicking height.

Adora shifted to lean back against the desk and Moist ran his hands reverently over her legs, up her thighs, enjoying the sight before he closed the distance again and kissed a path up until he at last lapped his tongue very gently along her labia. He relished the way her fingers tightened in his hair and the small shudder that he felt in the muscles of her thighs.

Adora had learned, within their first couple of times together, that Moist liked having his hair pulled. Nothing too much, of course, but if she could get a fistful of his short, dark locks in her hand, they both found that things were a bit better for them.

Moist buried his face against her, her dark, curly hair rough against his cheeks, chin, and lips. He licked and sucked ravenously, circling her clit with his tongue and spelling out messages one letter at a time. She didn’t cry out or moan, but her breathing quickened and her muscles tightened as he worked.

“Moist…” she said again, her voice tight and controlled.

He smiled against her, not stopping.

“ _Moist_.”

Her voice was firmer this time, and she tugged at his hair roughly, forcefully dragging him back.

“Ow!” Moist cried out as he toppled backwards. He flung out his hands behind him, barely catching himself before he fell completely flat.

“Sorry!” Adora said, sounding entirely sincere.

He frowned up at her, confused and suddenly worried.

“What is it, Adora? Something wrong?”

Adora was breathing heavily and flushed, but clearly resolute. Her one hand was still holding up her skirt, but mostly, it seemed, because she’d forgotten that that’s what she’d been doing with that appendage.

“I just…” She closed her eyes and let out a breath, as if she wished sorely that she had a cigarette to attack in this moment.

Moist sat up on his knees, reaching out to grab her hand.

“Spike, if I did something wrong…”

“No! No, I… liked everything that you were just doing, it was very… good.”

He smirked a little, scoffing. “You know you can’t lie to a liar.”

“I’m not lying!” Adora huffed again, looking down at him and meeting his eyes for a moment before her gaze flickered down to their joined hands.

And she was telling the truth, Moist could tell. He was a grand manufacturer of glass sincerity, and Adora’s words were pure diamond.

She, at last, spoke in a low voice:

“You don’t have to earn it, you know.”

Moist blinked at her, lost as ever.

“Earn what?”

Adora rolled her eyes, her fingertips fiddling slightly in his grasp. “It’s not as if I haven’t noticed that you always get me off first!”

“Well, ladies first, as they—”

“ _No_ ,” Adora interrupted, “No silver-tonguing your way out of this.”

Moist frowned, holding up a finger to pause the conversation as he processed it, keenly aware that he was still kneeling in just his suit pants and an unbuttoned shirt, his flushed chest exposed to the not-entirely-warm air of his office.

“Now, let me get this clear,” he said, “You are… _angry_ at me for—”

“I’m not angry at you!” Adora said, angrily.

Moist amended his words immediately. “You are _upset_ at me for giving you… _pleasure_?”

Adora shifted her free hand across her body, clearly wanting to cross her arms but unwilling to stop holding Moist’s hand to do it.

“I’m not mad about the orgasms, I’m just…” She let a breath out through her teeth. “Moist, I can see your brain doing the conman math. You’re just doing what you always do and giving the people what they want so you can get what _you_ want. So that you’ll have earned it.”

Moist smirked, despite himself. “You think I give _all_ the people this kind of treatment?”

This time she did smack him, only lightly and on the shoulder, as she glared down at him.

“I have been meaning to talk to you about this for weeks!” She said.

Moist raised his eyebrows. “And you think grabbing me mid-cunnilingus is the best time?”

Adora smacked his shoulder again and shook her head. “Well, I _intended_ to get to you first, but you and your damned silver tongue were…”

Adora drifted off, her face flushing slightly, and Moist grinned. Adora rolled her eyes at him.

“Oh, don’t look so proud of yourself.”

Moist shook his head, furrowing his brow in an exaggerated way. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Adora sighed, her fingertips brushing over his hand. She met his eyes, her voice quiet. “Do you understand what I’m trying to tell you, though?”

Moist shrugged and answered honestly. “Maybe.”

She smiled a little bit. “You’re a conman. A cheat. A scoundrel, even.”

He chuckled. “Right.”

“So, the more you want something, the more you want to make sure that I get what you think _I_ want. Because it’s a business exchange. Because if I’m not satisfied, I’ll call the Watch on you.”

Adora spoke with a straightforward, clipped tone that made the fact that Moist was kneeling on the floor next to her discarded underwear feel altogether ridiculous. He raised his eyebrows at her.

“You’ll… call the Watch?” He asked.

Adora looked at him flatly. “ _No_. But that’s what the silly little conman in your brain thinks.”

“Ah.” Moist said, nodding. “So, what you’re saying is…”

“I’m saying that it isn’t the end of the world if you let me get you off first.”

Moist smirked. “Well, now, we don’t know that it won’t be the end of the world, since it hasn’t happened yet.”

Adora rolled her eyes at him and her hand in his fidgeted slightly, adjusting her grip as her expression turned thoughtful.

“I know that… you’ve never had a relationship that lasted this long,” She said, all but ignoring his last, teasing comment. “All the other versions of you never stuck around long enough for more than a quick fling, and none of your partners ever really knew _you_ as the _real_ you. But…” She gentled a little, running a fingertip slowly along his jaw. “We’ve been doing this for over seven months. It’s not a business deal. It’s not a con. You don’t need to be worried that I’ll find you selfish. I just want you to be honest with me about what you want… because I love you. Because I know it’s _you_.”

Moist’s heart skipped a beat and he softened, looking into Adora’s eyes. He ran his thumb over her fingers and looked down at the floor.

“Look, Adora—”

“No.” Adora interrupted again sharply. “No excuses. Tell me what you want.”

He blinked in surprise and snapped his eyes back up to look at her. She raised an eyebrow imperiously and, when he continued his dumbfound silence, snapped her fingers at him once.

“Come on, Lipwig, out with it.”

The tone was the same one she used on people who tried to argue about Golem rights with her. It was clipped and solid as rock, leaving no room for anything but a quick and clear answer.

And so, the answer came:

“I want you to fuck me.”

The words tumbled out of his mouth with the swiftness and chaos of a dam breaking, and it left him astonished at himself and red in the face.

It had been… in the back of his mind, sure. And, perhaps, loitering in some of the more front parts, from time to time. Especially on nights when Adora was away on Golem Trust or Clacks business and he’d had to, erm… help himself. Back when he was the type of fast and loose bachelor who skipped to a new town every other week, he’d been able to pick and choose. Men, women, once a dwarf who couldn’t quite be identified as either, it had all been available to him based solely on what his body decided it wanted that week.

But now he was with Adora and he _loved it_ and somewhere in his mind a terrifying thought said, _“I could do this forever. I could be with this one forever”_ , which was _not_ something he was ready to consider quite yet because, reformed or not, he really did need some time to adjust to his new, strangely stable lifestyle.

She looked down at him and Moist looked down at himself, realizing, again, that he was still on the floor. He remembered when she’d told him to “get down on your knees and pray” all that time ago, and he wondered if she saw the same connection that he did between the two events.

_“You know how to pray, right? You just put your hands together and hope.”_

Right now, he was mostly just hoping that this show of honestly wasn’t going to backfire on him.

Moist shifted a little, uncomfortable with the sudden influx of insecurity that had hit him in the immediate aftermath of his statement. In real time, it had been the merest of moments, but the panic rising in his mind had stretched each millisecond into an infinity.

Adora appraised him carefully and then tilted her head to one side. A smile tugged at the corner of her lips and she leaned down, cupping his cheek with her hand and kissing him tenderly. Moist moved fluidly into it, smiling gently, mostly out of relief.

When Adora broke the kiss, she stayed leaning close to him and whispered:

“Now, was that so hard, Slick?”

She stood to her full height and gently tugged at Moist’s hand, pulling him to his feet and, in his partially gobsmacked state, he allowed her to guide him around the desk. She pulled his shirt the rest of the way off him and set back to work on removing his trousers and it was at _that_ moment that Moist found his voice again.

“So, while we’re on the subject, of things I want…” He said, and his voice was rushed and unsure as it never usually was.

Adora looked up at him as she finished with undoing his belt and fly, and she raised an eyebrow unwaveringly even as she slid one of her hands down the front of his pants and forced a surprised and pleasured gasp to escape from him.

“Yes, love?” she asked, innocently.

He smiled, forcing his back to stop arching and his toes to stop curling long enough to say, in a breathless voice:

“Can you take your dress off?”

Adora smirked. “I could.”

She ran a fingernail down the shaft of his cock through the thin fabric of his underwear and Moist groaned, grabbing for the desk behind him.

“ _Please_ , Spike.” He said, and he winced a little at the volume of the whine that escaped him. “I like… seeing you. All of you.”

Adora seemed to consider it for a moment, and then she nodded and removed her hand from his pants. She smiled even as she began unlacing her bodice.

“Very well, but if this becomes a habit, you’re _going_ to have to start heating this place better.”

Moist scoffed, reaching out to help with her dress. “I’ve got a lovely bed with big warm blankets upstairs, but _you_ jumped my bones in the office.”

She rolled her eyes, tossing him a look as she moved to pull her dress off. “Your blankets aren’t _that_ warm, you’re Überwaldian.”

Adora passed him the dress and he helpfully tossed it over to the chair where most of his discarded clothing items were piled.

“Not my fault Ankh-Morpork is so _temperate_ compared to the Überwald winters.”

Adora narrowed her eyes at him, shoving her petticoats into his arms before carefully working at the fastens of her stays.

“Not your fault that your lady love refuses to stay in your bed, then.”

He tossed the petticoats haphazardly over with the other clothes and then smiled, leaning forward to kiss her quickly.

“I suppose I could buy more blankets, then.” He whispered.

She hummed in satisfaction and let the stays fall to the floor, now fully naked in front of him.

Moist was dumbstruck, again, and it wasn’t as if this was the first time he’d seen her, but… in his mind, it was _always_ as if he was seeing her for the first time.

Adora stepped closer and reached out to tug at his trousers, giving him a look that said, “ _are you done staring, Slick_?” and began pushing the molten-gold colored fabric downwards.

Something in his mind kickstarted once more, after a moment or two of his consciousness smacking the engine around and cussing at it, and Moist was back to moving, a bit too hasty, maybe, but at least he wasn’t standing and staring anymore.

He awkwardly stooped to pull his shoes off when his pants were already down around his knees, and he nearly fell over for it, although Adora grabbed ahold of him the moment it appeared as a possibility. The smirk on her face said she found this endearing.

The gold shoes, the gold trousers, and the plain underwear got tossed to the chair on the other side of the desk and Moist didn’t even have the chance to turn back around to Adora before she pressed herself against his back. He shivered and leaned into her, relishing the feeling of her soft breasts against him as her hands snaked around his ribs, holding tight to his chest.

He hummed out a noise of pleasure, reaching blindly back to brush his hands across any part of Adora’s skin that he could reach. One of her hands moved back to brush a fingernail up his spine, and Moist shivered again, arching his back.

“You still want me to fuck you?” Adora whispered.

Moist felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up at the feeling of her breath against his skin. He turned his head as much as he could, trying to catch her eye.

“Only if… that’s something you want.”

Adora chuckled, and the hand on his spine crawled upwards to twine into his hair.

“Moist, I want one thing…” she said quietly.

The hand in his hair tightened and pushed him forward, firmly but gently, as her other hand gripped tight at his hips, forcing him to lean forward over the desk. His hands splayed to catch himself and he gasped a little, smiling.

“…I want to hear you beg.”

Moist groaned as he felt his cock bump at the edge of the desk, and he was almost embarrassed by how hard he was. Almost.

His hands flexed and he closed his eyes, murmuring as quietly as he could. “Please, Adora, would you…” he finished the rest in a sort of wordless scramble of sound, because one of her hands was teasingly circling on his ass and that sort of thing really threw a wrench into his thought processes.

“I’m sorry, could you repeat that?” Adora asked, her voice as sweet as he’d ever heard it.

That sent a thrill through his body and he could swear his cock twitched with it. She was _enjoying_ this, possibly as much as he was, and that, by far, made the entire experience that much more enjoyable.

Moist wet his lips and tried again, saying, louder:

“Spike, would you please, _please_ fuck me, if it’s not too much trouble.”

Adora hesitated, seeming to consider his words.

“That wasn’t begging, that was _cheeky_.” She said at last.

Moist shrugged as much as he could while bent over a desk with Adora still pulling his hair.

“Need me to try again, then?” He asked.

“Well, yes, but I feel like this could become a problem.” Adora said, matter-of-factly.

Moist scoffed, turning his head a little to look at her out of the corner of his eye. “Well, I suppose you could punish me.”

Adora raised her eyebrows and her hand in his hair loosened to allow him an easier time of looking at her.

“Are you serious?” She asked.

Moist blushed. “Well, I—”

“I’m not against it, I just need to know if you are.” Adora said, her voice still so flat and straightforward that she may as well have been discussing which restaurant they should eat at.

Moist flushed a deeper shade of red and said, his voice somewhat sheepish. “I mean, I’ve never precisely tried it, but I’m… open to the experience.”

Adora tilted her head, eyes narrowing curiously. “Given your current… position… spanking seems like the most straightforward option, don’t you think?”

Moist chuckled, if only for the ludicrousness of hearing Adora Belle Dearheart suggest that spanking was the most straightforward option in _anything_ , and, more than anything, hearing her say it like it wasn’t a ludicrous thing to say.

“I’d be tempted to agree.” He said, smiling.

Adora nodded. “Alright, well, in that case—”

She slapped his ass with a satisfying amount of force and Moist cried out with the suddenness, taken entirely by surprise. He almost missed what Adora was saying as he blinked several times to try to wrap his head around how _good_ it had felt.

“Stop being cheeky. Now beg.” Adora said, and then added quickly. “That wasn’t too hard?”

Moist cleared his throat, shaking his head. “No, that was fine. Very, very fine.”

He let out a breath, wishing that Adora would touch him somewhere besides his neck and back. The heat in his lower abdomen was simmering in just the kind of way that begs a man to do something about it, and his cock was still hard between his legs. As a shiver ran through his body, for _once_ he agreed with Adora that maybe he could stoke the heating in this damned building just a _little_ higher.

“Spike…” Moist said, swallowing. “Adora. Please, fuck me, I’m…”

He closed his eyes and his back arched as Adora moved closed to his ass, tangling her legs with his and grabbing a fistful of his hair once again.

“I’m begging you, Spike,” he continued, “I want you to fuck me. I want it more than anything.”

Adora’s hand moved in circles on one of his ass cheeks and he felt her lean over him, her breasts brushing against his back. He moaned as she dug her fingernails into his ass.

“ _Please._ ” Moist repeated, his voice high with a whine.

Adora hummed. “Now, _that_ is what I call begging.”

Moist slumped forward on the desk, biting his lip. “There’s some, erm… some stuff in the third drawer on the right.”

“You keep sexual lubricant in your _desk_?” Adora asked, her voice flat. As if she’d be aghast if she could possibly be surprised by his behavior this far into their relationship.

Despite her tone, though, Moist felt her step away from him. He laughed as he listened to Adora rummage through the drawer.

“You know I work late nights, Spike.” He said, “And I’m only human.”

He heard the sound of a bottle opening and the discreet noises of something rather useful being dispensed, and then Adora was back again and her hand was in his hair. Moist gasped as a drop of cool liquid dripped onto his ass, and then he was moaning as Adora’s fingers slid across his entrance, spreading the lubricant deftly and quickly.

“Relax.” Adora said, her voice firm but quiet as her hand tightened in his hair.

Moist took a deep breath and let it out, focusing on the feeling of Adora’s hand in his hair, the feeling of her fingers as they teased him, slick and cool. He closed his eyes and relaxed.

“Good boy.” Adora said.

And Moist didn’t have enough time to consider the implications of how good those words made him feel, because one of her fingers was slipping into his ass and he was moaning and wrapping one of his hands around the edge of the desk so he could dig his fingernails into the wood.

“ _Ahh_ , fuck!” He gasped, pressing into Adora’s hand as she pumped it in and out.

The hand in his hair pulled his head back and he moaned again. Adora’s tongue licked up his spine and he shivered.

“Ready for another?” She asked.

Moist nodded.

Quick as anything, Adora’s hand in his hair had released him and slapped down on his ass, invoking another cry and moan from him.

“Was that too hard?” She asked.

Moist shook his head. “No, that was fine.”

“Good. Now, I asked you a question.” The hand she’d used to spank him lifted, presumably readying in case she had to slap it down again. “And I didn’t hear any begging.”

Moist’s hand tightened on the edge of the desk and he smiled. “Yes, Spike. Please, I’m ready for another finger.”

She hummed, pumping the one finger a couple times, almost experimentally. Moist gasped as Adora grabbed ahold of his hair again and, in a fluid motion, slid a second lubricant-slicked digit into him.

He groaned as Adora’s fingers moved deeper, brushing up against a spot that shot fireworks through his brain. Moist knew he was probably moaning loud enough that Adora would tease him forever, but, well, he happened to like her brand of teasing. His neglected cock was bobbing as he rocked gently in time with Adora’s thrusts.

She scissored her fingers, stretching him a little between thrusts, and Moist whined.

“ _Fuck_ , Adora, you’re amazing.”

Adora pulled his hair a little and chuckled. “You’re really going to get off without me ever touching your cock, aren’t you?”

Moist moaned as her fingers hit that bright, firework-y spot inside of him again and he gripped the desk harder.

“I will if you keep that up.”

Adora thrust her hand and hit it again. Moist gasped and cried out a little bit.

“What, that spot?” Adora asked, innocently.

“Yes, right _there_ …”

Moist had to half-moan on the last word because Adora twisted her fingers as she thrusted, as if massaging at the spot.

“Please, don’t stop, Spike. _Please.”_ He said, pleading.

Adora hummed, leaning over him to kiss his back.

“Good boy.” She said, again.

Adora pulled at his hair, harder than before, and increased her speed. Moist lost himself, his eyes fully closed as he moaned and cried out, practically babbling in his pleasure. All that heat in his abdomen was gathering, now, and he knew he wouldn’t last long.

“Gods, Adora, _yes_ , that’s…” He arched his back as Adora dragged his head back and his tone turned to almost a whine. “ _Fuck_ , that’s it. I’m… _oh_ , gods… I’m so close.”

“Come on, Slick,” Adora whispered, “you’ve been good. That’s it.”

Moist let out a breath, biting his lip as he groaned, rocking his hips back to meet Adora’s hand once more before the fire in his body came crashing to its conclusion, the orgasm shaking through him as he moaned loudly and wordlessly.

Adora kept fucking him until he was finished, and then her thrusts slowed until they stopped entirely. She pulled her fingers out of him and he heard her rummaging in the third drawer for some of his cleaning supplies.

Moist’s legs were wobbly when he opened his eyes and finally felt like he could stand up straight again. He smiled, looking over at Adora, still naked as she wiped the lubricant from her hand.

She smirked and passed him the towel once she was finished with it, looking pointedly down at the spot on the floor where Moist’s final… _hurrah_ had sprayed.

He sighed, kneeling to clean it up as best he could. The tile was easy to wipe, but he probably needed to mop, just in case.

The sound of a match being struck informed him that Adora had found her cigarettes. He smiled a little as a waft of smoke curled into his nose.

Adora cleared her throat behind him, and he turned.

She was lounging in his office chair, her legs crossed as she watched him. Her dark hair, disheveled as it was, framed her face like a wild thing. Her eyes sparked as she took a drag from her cigarette and blew the smoke out.

“You _do_ look good on your knees.”

He shrugged, dropping the towel onto the floor and shuffling the few feet over to her, although the action scraped on his aforementioned bare knees.

“That’s what I was trying to tell you before, Spike.” He said, leaning his elbows on the chair’s arms and smiling teasingly. “As I recall, I was in the middle of a very compelling argument.”

Adora breathed smoke in his face, but nonetheless returned the smile.

Her legs uncrossed and she moved forward, closing the distance between them.

“Yes, I believe you were.” She said.

Adora kissed him, long and lingering and deep, smelling strongly of cigarettes and just a little bit of the strange, cool aroma of lubricant. Moist’s hands moved to Adora’s thighs, slipping smoothly down until his thumbs could massage at the skin where her legs met the mound of her pussy. He felt her soft, sharp exhale of breath against his face, and he smiled, breaking from the kiss.

“Now, where was I?” He asked.

She hummed, tilting her head back as he kissed along her throat.

“I’m sure I’ll remember when you get there.” She answered, somehow managing to maintain a cool tone even as Moist was pressing kisses down her chest.

He furrowed his brow in mock concern, lapping the flat of his tongue over one of her nipples before looking back to her face.

“You sure you’ll remember?”

Adora met his eyes and tried her best to look unaffected, even as he saw her fingers tighten on her cigarette out of the corner of his eye.

“Some of us are business-minded, my love. I _don’t_ forget things.”

Moist grinned and leaned in to kiss at one of her breasts, keeping his eyes on her as a test.

This was another one of the games they’d played since almost the beginning. Because Adora didn’t feel things as… one could say, _performatively_ , as Moist did. She could stonewall with the best of Golems, and each time Moist poked at the ice-cold act, Adora committed herself that much more to it. So, naturally, it was a contest, of sorts. Which would last longer? Moist’s desire to poke fun at Adora just to get a reaction, or Adora’s desire to make sure that Moist never got the satisfaction of a reaction?

They both knew what would _actually_ win out, and it was Moist’s desire to make sure that Adora Belle Dearheart had a damn good orgasm.

Moist moved downward, leaving a trail of kisses and licks as he descended. Adora leaned back in the chair, and Moist felt her legs shift to open just a little bit wider, and he smiled. Her face remained impassive as she took a drag from her cigarette, and it may have been Moist’s imagination that there was a bit more _sigh_ than usual in the exhale of smoke.

He kissed just above where her dark, curly pubic hair started, and he took one more look up at Adora, and she rolled her eyes a little, the ghost of a smile on her lips.

“Are you going to take all night with this?” she asked.

Moist smirked. “Is that an option?”

Adora threaded her hands teasingly through his hair, not grabbing any. Not yet, at least. She tilted her head at him and raised an eyebrow.

“Do you want it to be?”

His smirk turned to a grin. “Are you offering?”

Adora hummed, petting at his hair softly. “Not until you get some proper blankets on your bed, Überwald boy.” And, with that, her hand twined into his hair and tugged gently. She smiled. “Get to work.”

He chuckled, knowing that was the closest he would get to her admitting that she was impatient, so he obligingly got to work.

If it was possible, she seemed wetter than she been before. He flushed at the concept that she’d enjoyed getting him off, but he tried not to let that go to his head. He focused on moving his tongue and sucking at her clit in intervals that made her hips buck just subtly against his mouth. He found his rhythm quickly, lapping at her slick entrance and using his hands to hold her legs open.

Above him, Adora’s breathing picked up, and every so often she made a small noise or two along with her gasps, but other than that she was quiet. He looked up at one point, just to ensure all was still well, and her eyes were closed. The hand that held her cigarette was gripping it tightly, but it was otherwise forgotten, the ember burning away slowly. Her mouth opened and she sighed, her brows pulling together just a little.

Moist shifted one of his hands and massaged at her clit with his thumb as he focused his licking on her entrance, and he felt the muscles in her thigh tense.

“ _Ah_ , Moist…” she murmured, her voice a breathy sort of whisper.

He hummed, sending vibrations through her labia, and she inhaled sharply. He increased the pressure on her clit and slipped his tongue inside of her, groaning low in his throat as he felt her muscles flex again.

“ _There_.” Adora said, gasping and pulling at his hair as she moved her hips reflexively.

Moist lapped and sucked at her, rubbing at her clit as he pressed his tongue as deep inside her as he could reach. Adora’s thighs twitched, and then she let out a short, quiet word:

“ _Fuck_.”

And the leg that Moist wasn’t holding on to tightened, pressing against his ear as he continued lavishing her pussy, licking up to her clit and back down as she finished.

Adora took a few deep breaths and loosened her grip on his hair, running her fingers through it gently as they both caught their breath. Moist sat back, wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand. His face was covered in the slick of Adora’s wetness, and he grinned as she at last sat up in the chair and looked at him.

Moist chuckled, looking down at himself, then over to Adora, who was taking one last drag from her cigarette before putting it out in the ashtray.

“We just… fucked in my office.” He said, with a snort.

Adora frowned at him and exhaled smoke. “Just noticed that, did you?”

Moist shook his head, lifting a hand to gesture around himself in a vague sort of fashion. He opened his mouth to explain, but then paused to allow a short bout of giggles to overtake him.

“No, no, it’s…” He finally said, still grinning. “It’s not _my_ office, it’s… the Postmaster General’s office. It’s a historical establishment, Spike!”

Adora gave him a look that was surely meant to be profoundly serious and unamused, but it was ruined by the way a smile snuck onto her features.

“You _are_ the Postmaster General, I’m afraid.”

Moist snorted, nodding. “That’s what makes it ridiculous, though, isn’t it?” He looked around the room, still smiling. “You think any other Postmasters could say they fucked in the office?”

Adora looked around as well, eyes narrowing in thought.

“Definitely.” She said at last, nodding once. “Though, I suspect you’re the first Postmaster General to _get fucked_ in here.”

Moist laughed and pushed himself to his feet, stepping over to kiss Adora Belle. When he broke away, he leaned on the chair and said, in a sort of dreamy tone:

“Technically, I think the Patrician told me my options were to restart the post office or get fucked, so I suppose now I’ve just gone and done both.”

Adora smacked him lightly and rolled her eyes, rising to her feet.

“Come on, Postmaster. I’m cold and it’s time for bed.”

Moist followed in her wake, a grin on his face.

“I thought you said you weren’t staying the night. Too cold, you said.” He said, his voice light and unburdened by expectation, which was a very impressive feat considering he had many very heavy expectations about how she might answer.

Adora grabbed her dress and pulled it on without her undergarments, collecting the rest in her arms. She looked at him with an impassive expression.

“As it turns out, it’s colder outside.”

Moist hummed, nodding sagely. “I’ve heard about that nonsense. Absurd. Can’t expect people to walk home in such conditions.”

Adora smiled and leaned in to kiss Moist. Even when they broke apart, she didn’t move away. Their foreheads rested together, and Moist’s naked skin felt electrified. As if when he opened his eyes he’d be radiant.

“I love you, Spike.” He murmured.

Adora smiled softly, her eyes still closed. “I love you, Slick.”

They stood in silence for just a moment longer, before Adora said, her voice still quiet:

“Put on your pants so we can walk to your room, Moist, _please_ , I’m freezing.”

Moist grinned and obliged.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading! Please leave a kudos or comment (or both) if you feel so inclined!


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